Lost Leaves of Autumn
by Oparu
Summary: AU.  Catelyn believes Tyrion when he promises he did not order Bran's death. As they head to King's Landing together to make peace with the Lannisters, she realises she carries another Stark in her womb.


"That's where you're wrong," the half-man says, brushing dust from his chest. "I always bet on my brother."

He had no reason to lie. Even though Tyrion is his prisoner and a Lannister, Catelyn has no reason not to believe him. She wants to write him off as a liar, to believe Petyr but the idea that Tyrion may be innocent nags at her.

It nags at her all the way to the Bloody Gate where her uncle Brynden hugs her close and mentions how pale she is. Catelyn brushes that off like dust and as she listens to Brynden, she wonders what she has done. When they retire to the inn just past the Gates of the Moon, she sits up wondering if Petyr might still begrudge Ned for what Brandon did, and if she hurt his honour way back then.

She didn't think of honour as a girl. She thought of men in terms of their handsome faces and if they were good prospects: men of songs and tales. She was so like Sansa once. Now she has to think like Bran, who always finds a way through impassable terrain. He'd love these mountains, if he could climb them. She reminds herself that he will see them still and creeps down to the kitchen. She shouldn't have picked at her dinner because now she's hungry.

Passing two servants, she waves them back asleep. She may be a noble lady but she can still make her own tea and cut her own bread.

Tyrion, the half-man, the man she so fervently wants to call a liar, lifts a wineskin to her as she enters the kitchen. "Lady Stark, come to join me?"

"I fear wine will only keep me awake."

He smiles at that. "And I drink to help me sleep."

Maybe it's the knot in her stomach when she remembers the look of shame on Petyr's face or the way intrigue is never what it seems. King's Landing is awash with secrets and full of lies to salt them.

"Is it wine you find holy, Lannister or would you chose gold like your father?"

Again he laughs and it's an honest sound. "If my gold were sacred, I am the most charitable of sextons for I am always giving it to whores."

She wonders if he's trying to make her blush and lifts the kettle out of the fire for tea. "You must know fine whores."

"And only the finest know me." Tyrion lifts his wine to her again, still grinning. "Are you here for company, Lady Stark? Perhaps you seek from the Lion what the Wolf lacks. I've had a little wine but I'm sure I can rise to the occasion."

Biting her lip keeps her civil, though she'd love to see the smirk gone from his face if she slapped him. She doesn't.

"If you didn't try to kill my son. Who did?"

"Well, that's as cool as a fresh pail from the Milkwater." He keeps his eyes on hers. "Who gives away their toys when they get bored with them?"

The idea of Joffrey, barely more than a boy himself, hiring an assassin to kill her son turns her stomach to molten lead. "Joffrey is betrothed to my daughter."

"Too bad you didn't chose the one who likes to fight instead of the pretty one. I'd love to see the pup bite back with the cub snarls." Tyrion must be further into his wine then she thought, but she feels the truth in it. Her stomach continues to twist angrily and when he hands across the wine, she takes it.

* * *

><p>When she sees her sister, Catelyn realises that something else is wrong. There's a staleness in the Eerie that clings to everything and it has the stench of fear and cold sweat. When Lysa demands the charges against Tyrion, Catelyn makes her choice.<p>

"I was mistaken. I was overcome with grief and I accused Lord Tyrion not with fact, but with a woman's hysterical grasping for truth."

As she continues to apologise for what she's done and blame the supposed failings of her sex, Catelyn notes the understanding on Tyrion's face. She hates resorting to such tactics but Lysa is too happy to believe her older sister's weakness. The men do as well, as many men are only to too quick to see the weakness in a woman. She may have painted herself the wailing woman but she will not find justice here. Tyrion is not who she needs to accuse.

She needs to return to Ned, to King's Landing and the nests of angry rats scrabbling in the walls. If the dagger was indeed Joffrey's, marrying him to Sansa is out of the question. Some boyish pranks can be undone, but she will not accept a murderer as a son.

As she saddles her horse next to Tyrion, now a free man, she stops and circles to help him with the straps. "I owe you a great apology."

"Your performance in there all but made up for it, I assure you." He takes her in, reading her as if she were one of his books. "You looked pale enough to faint in there for a moment."

"The air was stale."

"Odd, considering the Moon Door was so far open." The way he jokes about death makes her wonder if there is anything he takes seriously. Tyrion seems to read that in her face as well and chuckles. "No, Lady Stark, even I am relieved to live another day."

"Would you be willing to spend that day escorting me to King's Landing so I can make my apologies to your noble brother and sister?"

"I'll come if you weep." He accepts Bron's help into the saddle. "My sister will squirm with joy if you do and the king will dismiss the whole mess the moment your eyes are damp because he only likes women to cry out."

The Seven help her. If she returns Tyrion to his family, the Lannisters will cease looking for him and the rift will be forgotten for a time. If Joffrey is what she fears, if Sansa has been promised to a monster, they will need the rift sealed to risk breaking it with an ended betrothal.

"If weeping keeps my children safe, I'd cry the Trident."

"Spoken like a true Riverlander." He likes that.

There is a wit behind his smile that she's just now starting to see.

* * *

><p>Catelyn wonders if he's ever appreciated for what he's accomplished, for once she starts to listen, Tyrion is a wealth of information far more interesting than his father's gold. He proves to be good company, which is a relief when the travel leaves her weary and the thought of the boats twists her stomach almost as much as the fish around the docks. She's never been beaten by water. There's Tully blood in her veins but river snakes dance in her stomach all the way to King's Landing.<p>

She watches the moon, counting days back and realises she remembers the foggy headaches and the strange rebellion of her stomach. If her suspicions are true and she's quickened with Ned's child, that can only help her story of temporary insanity. Women can be wild when pregnant. King Robert, who knows more about deer than women, will pardon her weakness and send her on her way.

"You are a fertile lot, you Northerners," Tyrion says when she confirms his wondering looks and admits her condition. "I suppose there's not much else to do in the North."

Ned will try to send her back there, to birth their child at Winterfell, safe from the intrigues of court. Her heart aches for Bran, Rickon and Robb but she trusts their good folk to keep them safe. Her boys are surrounded by friends and Ned only by enemies. She'll have to fight him but he has a soft place in his heart for their children, especially once they stir within her and she starts to believe that she'll stay.

The South is nearly as alien to her as the North once was and when they land, a small boat of merchants with a handful of passengers, the half-man is almost an ally. He suggests they arrive together, to better annoy his family but she hears to caution in his words. The Lannisters all but control King's Landing and she, the Lady who kidnapped one of the Lions, may be in great trouble without that Lion at her side.

Tyrion's chivalry far outweighs his stature and she wonders how large the heart is in his chest when they are stopped by the guards at the gates to the palace. He spins her tale of weakness with enough patronising sympathy that she nearly stops him twice before reminding herself this is what she needs. A cloak of words as heavy as her wool bridal cloak once was. They are led by guards now, surrounded by the clinking of armour as they approach the Iron Throne. Robert is off hunting but the guards speak of Ned holding the city.

Her heart thuds in her chest and the weeks they've been separate grow cold and long in her memory. When Ned passes through the guards to take her hands, he'll not embrace her until duty has been served, Catelyn catches a hint of longing in Tyrion's eyes. It's not her, but the bond he envies.

She doesn't have time to dwell. Her husband knows her well enough to see the reluctance she hides while she lies. Tyrion plays his part like a master mummer and the court nods along. Queen Cersei makes them repeat the whole tale again for the benefit of her brother.

Catelyn only has to think of Bran crippled and of Sansa married to a monstrous boy with golden hair to bring forth tears she feigns struggling to hide. Ned sees through her as Tyrion does but both of them keep their silence.

The Kingslayer seems amused more than anything. Cersei's eyes are still cold but Catelyn remembers her story of her little bird and moves the last piece into position.

"I may have contained my grief better if my lord husband had not planted a child in my belly and stripped me of my wits."

Ned searches her face for truth, then leaves his chair, duty momentarily forgotten. She has teased him of having seven children, one to honour each of her gods. He always replies that the old gods don't care about numbers, just that their babies grow strong and wise. The child within her will need all of the godswood's strength to weather the winter to come.

Jamie laughs and shrugs. "I have heard that can happen." For some reason, he fixes his eyes on his sister and Ned's face darkens.

"I'll vouch for her taking to the water more like a Dornishman than a Riverlander." Tyrion feigns disgust. "She spent more time retching than eating things to retch back up all the way South."

Satisfied for the moment, whether by his brother's return or the embarrassment of his enemies, Jamie formally forgives Catelyn her madness and nods to his sister to do the same. The Lannisters leave them alone and Ned takes her into his arms, holding her as if there were nothing in the world but them.

Ned holds her close, his hands on her back as he orders his thoughts. "Why did he lie for you? The day you retch on the water is the day Dorne suffers the summer snows."

Catelyn takes in the warm leather scent of him and shakes her head. "Tyrion has his own games to play. He may be a Lannister, but he was kind and there were truths in his words."

"Hard truths."

"Aren't they all?"

Ned pulls back then kisses her, his strength seeping through her. "Some are most welcome." One of his hands finds her belly and rests there, greeting the hope of a child.

It's a stolen moment but it's sweet enough to dull the gossip that follows.

All of the Kingdom prattles about the Lady Stark letting the child her belly go to her head and kidnapping the half-man. Versions of it become progressively stranger but she leaves that to the kitchen maids and guardsmen. She has her girls again and Ned's carrying a weight too heavy to bear alone. He'll tell her, in his time and she's ready to give him many nights to find his tongue.

* * *

><p>It's after they make love that he whispers to her that the King's son is not the King's, but Jamie Lannister's.<p>

She sits up in bed, staring at him in the darkness. She wants to say that the queen wouldn't dare and that Jamie's in the Kingsguard. Ned's certain so she must be. He wants to warn Cersei and her heart aches to let him.

Will she run? Catelyn imagines she would, were her children threatened, but there's something in Cersei, something that wears the crown the way Jamie wears his sword. Ned tells her Renly wants to grab the children, hold them hostage, but he won't pull children from their beds.

Thinking of the child within her; of Bran, Rickon, Sansa, Arya and Robb, Catelyn listens to Ned make his choice with her head on his chest. Cersei's children hold no blame for their mother's choices but a hostage doesn't have to suffer. Theon grew up with her children, almost as one of them. He is as much a hostage as the golden Lannisters will be and she knows he hasn't suffered.

"What's worse," she asks her husband. "A ruined night of sleep or a civil war?"

"Cersei will see reason."

"She may only see what she wants to see. I was ready to condemn Tyrion for crimes I was certain he had committed. if I hadn't listened to him, I may have wanted to see my sister throw him from the Eerie."

"You are no Cersei Lannister, Cat."

"We are both mothers. If my children were in danger, I wouldn't wait for morning."

Ned kisses her head and she can hear his amusement. "Are you suggesting I should think as a mother for once?"

She sits up again, resting her hand on his chest. "Honour means little to a woman whose children are threatened. You can't expect Cersei Lannister to have any."

Ned sits up into her hand, kissing her. "I'm glad you came south Cat."

* * *

><p>Jory brings Renly to their bedchamber and in less than an hour, the Baratheon children are theirs. Catelyn holds Tommen as he cries into his blankets and Myrcella tries not to cry into Catelyn's skirts. They know Ned and their uncle Renly but they are sleepy children. Tommen responds to her singing softly and Myrcella calms a little.<p>

"We're not going to hurt you." Catelyn tells them both, over and over.

Joffrey kicks up a fuss, screaming worse than Arya did when she was three. Renly gags him, then cuffs him unconscious when he won't stop.

"Might be best if he's not fostered with me." Renly throws his nephew over his shoulder like a bag of feed.

"Might be best if none of them stay in Westeros, m'Lords." Jory's gruff sentiment proves to be best. No blades are held to the children, but when Ned, Catelyn and Renly stand amidst Renly's guards and a few swords of the North, Cersei understands the threat.

Impossibly, she laughs as Ser Barristan presents Jamie to her and his bastard children. It's a hysterical, wild kind of laughing and it leaves Cersei incapable of speech.

Jamie shrugs and hands over his sword. He's not even surprised or he's too confident to hide it. "At least you brought my brother back to me, Lady Stark. I heard the men of the North kill their own prisoners. Will it be so, Eddard?"

"Passing off your son as the King's is treason."

Jamie walks towards the unconscious Joffrey and smiles. "I suppose a part of me hoped he was Robert's. Such an angry boy."

"The children have committed no crime." Ned's voice is calm as stone. "You and the Queen may be banished with them if you leave tonight, never to return. I have no wish to see the King suffer your executions."

"And I'll work as a sell-sword in Braavos?" Jamie ponders the idea as he removes his white armour. "Cersei, you'll have to learn to keep your own home until I earn enough to support us."

The Lannister twins share a look and Catelyn can't help the hint of sympathy in her revulsion. Had they but been born Targaryens, no one would have questioned their love for each other. Banishing them is good and she nods gratefully to Ned and Renly. Varys and Petyr arrive in the back of the room, worming their way through the guards. Varys almost looks disappointed and Petyr simply smiles.

Renly calls for a ship and Petyr hurries to obey. Catelyn carries Tommen all the way to the docks. Cersei keeps her head high and a few of her servants trail after with chests of gowns she'll have to sell in the east. Ned and Ser Barristan walk at her side, but Cersei has the pride of a new bride, not the shame of a woman dishonoured.

At the docks, Myrcella runs to her mother and Jamie takes the sleeping Tommen from Catelyn's arms. "I feel I may owe you a debt, Lady Stark. You've returned my brother to me and I sense you may have a hand in my keeping my family."

"Perhaps you'd consider the debt paid if I agreed that your leaving was my way to keep mine."

Jamie shifts Tommen to offer her his hand. "Then I shall consider us reconciled, Lady Stark. Good luck finding a new wife for Robert." His smile is charming but she decides it is truly genuine.

She returns it with a guarded one of her own. "Thank you, Ser."

"Jamie, please, I seem to have lost my knighthood somewhere recently."

"Good luck to you, Jamie."

A nearly sleeping Tommen waves at her, recognising that he is leaving and wanting to be polite. Ned stands at her side as Catelyn waves back. The Bravaasi ship leaves the harbour, skating across the smooth dark water like a stone on the ice. There's a chill in the air but she's been in the North long enough not to fear the cold.

Ned holds her tight around the waist until the sails are gone. They walk up in silence as the castle begins to realise what has happened and fill with noise.

* * *

><p>The story is a true scandal, but Robert's hunting accident turns the talk to sorrow. With no heirs, the crown would pass to Stannis, but Ned, Tyrion and Renly convince him that he is better suited to be the Hand of the King, letting the business of ruling the realm fall to Renly, who loves the roar of the crowd and the dance of courtly courtesies.<p>

Their child is starting to round her belly through her gown when Catelyn, Ned and Arya head north. Arya wants another girl and is full of joy to return to her brothers but Sansa has fallen in with the new queen, Margaery of the Tyrells as if she had always worn roses in her hair. She is old enough to remain at court and though it aches to leave her, she is happier. There's already talk of her being married to Trystane Martell, a second son but a prince of Dorne.

Arya only wants to talk of 'dancing' and Syrio, her 'dancing' master accompanies them north. Catelyn watches the grooms saddle their horses and listens to her daughter explain how chasing cats will make her quick.

"Do we have many cats in Winterfell?" Ned asks, feigning concern. "The dire wolves may have frightened them away."

"Cats are brave as well as quick," Arya insists, climbing onto her horse. They had contemplated travelling by sea but winter is in the air and Ned mistrusts the autumn storms so it'll be a long ride home.

"I'm sure there are some in the towers and the kitchens." Catelyn settles her gloves and grabs her saddle to swing up.

"There must be." Arya guides her horse out, following Syrio and the men.

Ned lifts Catelyn up as if she were a bride again, settling her on the horse with loving hands. "There may be snow in the North."

"Robb can come south and save us if need be."

Ned laughs and that and strokes the neck of her horse. She leans down to kiss him, leaving all her hopes on his lips.

"I don't care how we get there, I'm just happy to be headed home."

"We have our own battles to fight. There are tales from the Wall and this promises to be a long winter." Ned mounts his own horse, strapping his sword to his side.

"We'll be warm in Winterfell and the Starks have always been friends of the Night's Watch." Not even the grim words of the Starks can take her joy at riding out of King's Landing. Arya rides ahead but Jory will keep an eye on her.

Ned stays at her side, smiling at the hand she rests on her belly. "A winter's child is beloved of the old gods."

"Then I shall pray to them for this one's safety in the godswood of Winterfell."

He reaches for her elbow and squeezes it. "We'll visit together."

She takes a last look at the city that nearly swallowed her husband and turns her thoughts north, to Winterfell, to their boys and to the promise of the new child in her belly. The Baratheons and the Tyrells can have the kingdom. Ned belongs in the north and so does she.


End file.
